


Righteous Men

by PinkRangerV



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cagefic, Gorn, Lucifer's Cage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-09
Updated: 2014-06-09
Packaged: 2018-02-03 23:53:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1760051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PinkRangerV/pseuds/PinkRangerV
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Dean is thrown in the Cage along Sam, instead of Adam, things take an entirely predictable turn. AU. Cagefic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Righteous Men

**Author's Note:**

> why the _unholy fuck_ did I write this thing. Oh, also, triggers for Dean belittling Sam's trauma, Dean being brainwashed, Sam being brainwashed, losing track of reality, and generally this thing is fucked-up, I don't know why you're reading it.

It had been so easy to throw Adam ahead of him. To make sure his little brothers were safe.

 

And then it was blinding and--

 

_You said yes._

 

It was so strange, how Michael _understood_. How he didn’t _want_ to hurt Lucifer; it was for his little brother’s own good…

 

It was so strange, how when Dean felt Michael’s soul enter his body, he was reminded so strongly of being ten years old again.

 

***

 

Together they fell.

 

Locked in an embrace; they refused, point-blank refused, to let the archangels control them. Adam screamed their names; Dean had whispered a goodbye, and Sam had smiled. Adam had the Impala. He would be all right.

 

They refused to let the world burn.

 

Dean and Sam fell and fell and fell.

 

***

 

That was a very long time ago. Now there was only pain.

 

Now Sam was alone. Each angel had claimed their vessel for punishment; Sam had planted the idea in their minds, hoping and praying that he remembered the lore right, that Michael was the Defender of Mankind, that he would at least not hurt Dean as badly as Lucifer--

 

It felt more like fire to have the knife cutting open his skin than actual fire did. Fire was liquid and then searing agony; blades were sharp lines of pain that slid across his body and didn’t stop hurting for hours or even days.

 

Lucifer cutting Sam meant he was getting...possessive. Sam hated that more than just the regular torture. Being hung from a meat hook or burned or beaten or almost anything was at least _just_ pain, _just_ blunt brutality. It wasn’t...other things.

 

Sam flinched away when he felt Lucifer’s energy reach into his body.

 

Lucifer picked him up and slammed him into...it was a wall, sort of, like rooms in the Cage. The angels had agreed to them. Apparently they didn’t share space well.

 

Sam wished he could hear Dean’s voice, suddenly, that he could communicate with Dean like prisoners in a book, tapping out Morse code or talking or anything.

 

Lucifer’s lips pressed into Sam’s.

 

Sam wasn’t allowed to fight back. He knew that. He still flinched, because he couldn’t help it, he was just _twitchy_ today, and Lucifer threw him into the ground in response. “No.” Sam gasped. “No, I’m sorry, I’ll be good, I’m just...just jumpy, I promise, I promise I’ll be good, please. Sire.” Lucifer wanted to be called that, Sam knew. It made him happy. He joked about how humans thought he was the King of Hell...

 

Lucifer considered Sam, then his lips twisted up in a...well, it was like a smirk. Sort of. “Crawl to me, ape.”

 

Sam was shaking while he crawled. Shaking as Lucifer’s energy reached out again, as he tried not to fight, not to do anything wrong.

 

The cuts Lucifer had made split open, splattering blood all over Sam’s skin.

 

***

 

That was a very long time ago. Now there was only punishment.

 

Now Dean was alone. Each angel had claimed their vessel for punishment; Sam had gone and shot his mouth off while Dean was out, forgotten that Dean was _gonna protect him damnit_ , that if Michael was around at least Sam would be a _bit_ safer--

 

Michael slapped Dean in the face.

 

Dean blinked and looked up. “Sorry.” He hadn’t meant to let his thoughts wander. He was supposed to be reporting to Michael, not letting his thoughts drift. “I didn’t find anything, sir.”

 

Michael sighed, but nodded. “Sleep, soldier.”

 

Dean got off his knees and went to the corner where he slept. It had been...Dean had no idea how long. But Michael was the angel of Justice. He’d punished Dean, for his lies and sins, and shaped Dean into a better soldier, a better man. Dean would follow Michael to the ends of the Earth.

 

Michael would get out, he knew. Michael would stop Lucifer, and there would be Heaven on Earth. And Dean would find Sam, and save him, and punish him for what he did but show him, too, show him how _wonderful_ Heaven was.

 

He understood they’d been scared, once. But they were human. They were children, frightened and trembling. Sam would understand. Dean knew that.

 

Big brothers were there to help the ones who came after. Dean would help Sam. He knew he would.

 

Dean closed his eyes to sleep.

 

***

 

When Lucifer had stopped torturing Sam, Sam had just passed out.

 

He didn’t know how long he’d slept, but it was long enough to wake up on his own, and lay still for a long, long time before starting to cry. He wept himself out, then rested again, then waited for whatever came next.

 

Hunger did, and thirst, and leftover pain demanding attention. Lucifer almost never fed or watered Sam, let alone took care of anything else.

 

Sam glanced around. Lucifer was gone, along with all of his equipment. Just a white room.

 

Sam tried not to think about how hard it made it to clean himself up, but settled on sacrificing his socks for cleaning off the worst of the blood. Even if they stunk, at least he wouldn’t be sticky.

 

He’d gotten as much blood as he realistically could off and as clean as he could theoretically be--not that he smelled very good, but at least ‘foot’ wasn’t as bad as ‘blood, chemicals, and sex’--and sat around a bit more before Lucifer showed up. Sam hadn’t noticed how near he was to tears again until he saw Lucifer.

 

Lucifer studied Sam, then tsked and waved a hand. Sam’s socks, minus blood and whole instead of shredded into long cloth pads, were on his feet again. “Come here, ape.”

 

Sam crawled. He wasn’t allowed to walk. He knew he wasn’t. He knelt and didn’t look up, because he wasn’t supposed to look at the face of God--no, _Lucifer_. Lucifer was _not God_. He was trying to induce Stockholm Syndrome. Sam repeated that firmly. He only had his own mind, but he wanted that much. He wanted to keep some part of himself.

 

A water bottle touched Sam’s lips.

 

Sam drank thirstily, drinking the whole bottle at once. He gasped for air when he was done. Lucifer petted Sam’s hair idly and tossed aside the bottle, conjuring some kind of bar of paste. It tasted horrible, but Sam had learned not to question food. He ate from Lucifer’s hand, hungry and praying it wouldn’t be snatched away or transformed mid-bite or that Lucifer would decide he needed to earn it.

 

Sam tried not to wonder what he’d done to earn any of this, and failed miserably.

 

“Good boy.” Lucifer said quietly when Sam licked the wrapper to get the last of the food. His hand was still in Sam’s hair. “Good.” He made the wrapper vanish. Sam almost hummed from sheer pleasure as his stomach recognized there was something in it.

 

Lucifer tugged Sam’s head against his thigh, and Sam didn’t protest.

 

When Lucifer brought out the knife, Sam thought somewhere in his mind that it was worth it.

 

***

 

“Lucifer and I have reached an agreement.”

 

Dean was training when Michael came back. He slid effortlessly to his knees for his commander. He’d never say it out loud--a guy had a reputation--but it felt...kinda nice, to kneel, to not worry. Michael was in charge and he wasn’t. That was how the world was supposed to work.

 

“Alone, neither of us can escape the Cage.” Michael explained. Dean felt a pang of guilt. Damnit, he was supposed to be _helping_ , why couldn’t he make it right? He was Michael’s soldier. “Together, we stand a chance. There is, however, a condition.”

 

“‘Course there is, sir.” Dean muttered under his breath.

 

Michael slapped him in the face. Dean picked himself up, sheepish. “Sorry, sir.”

 

Michael pressed two fingers to Dean’s forehead. Dean felt his Grace whisper into his brain, analyzing, checking, and felt the oh-so-good soothing purity of his commander, there, _with him_ , because somewhere along the line Michael had become his whole world. When the Grace retreated, it was too soon. “We will need to take some time before we leave, I see.” Michael said. He wasn’t angry, that was the best thing about him--he never got angry at Dean, even though Dean was a pathetic lowlife screwup, barely a step above a thug. “You have a part to play, soldier. You must not require supervision.” There was a note of...fondness...in the next words. “I am trusting you.”

 

“Yes sir.” Michael trusted him, _Michael trusted him_ \--it was like a song. “It won’t happen again. I promise.”

 

“I know.” Michael agreed. “Now. We will begin. Clear your mind.”

 

Dean took a breath and tried to obey.

 

The blow to the face was entirely expected. Dean got up. He would try again. He would get it right.

 

He was a good soldier.

 

***

 

Sam knew something new was happening from the moment Lucifer came back and fed him. (Well, once he’d gotten past the whole _food need food_ thing.) What Lucifer had been doing barely even qualified as torture--it hurt, yes, and Sam hated every minute of it, but Lucifer was intent on _posession_ , on claiming Sam as _his property_.

 

Then Lucifer let Sam sleep in his arms, and Sam woke up, and he knew what had changed.

 

Sam didn’t know how to believe it was Dean, clad in white and looking like he had found his true purpose in life. Not for a second. Then Dean said, “Hey, Sammy,” and it was _Dean, it was his brother,_ and Sam almost fell over himself running to Dean to collapse in his embrace, he didn’t care that it meant Dean was touching him or that he was going to get his brother filthy, he just needed _someone_.

 

Dean held on. Didn’t let go. “It’s okay, Sammy. It’s okay. I’ve got you. I’m here, okay? It’s okay. It’s all okay now.”

 

Sam collapsed after a few minutes. He was weak and tired and couldn’t stand for very long. It felt like he’d only gotten weaker the less Lucifer tortured him. It was the weirdest thing, and Sam hated himself for the weakness. Dean lowered him gently down. “Shh-shh-shh. It’s okay, little big man. I’m here.”

 

Sam let out a broken half-laugh, half-sob at the old nickname. He’d been so _short_ when he was little…

 

“Sam. You okay now?” Dean asked.

 

Sam leaned against Dean’s shoulder, but Dean pushed him upright, so Sam sat with a bit of a sigh. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m...I’m good. You?”

 

Dean nodded. “Michael, he took care of me. He and Lucifer, they made a pact…” Dean sighed and looked angry. “I promise. I’m not gonna hurt you, okay? Lucifer said someone had to watch you while he and Michael went to go escape.”

 

“ _Escape_?” Sam’s hand latched onto Dean’s wrist, and he tried to haul himself up. “Dean, no, we gotta stop them--”

 

Dean pulled Sam down to his level again. “Sam. Stop.” Dean leveled him with a look. “We were wrong. This plan, the apocalypse...it’s the best plan we could have, okay? So I don’t wanna hear this. I know--” He held up a hand as Sam started to protest. “I know you don’t get it. Not yet. Just...you will, okay? And I’ll be right here for you.”

 

Sam shut his mouth. He wasn’t up to dealing with it. But Dean was _healthy_ and _clean_ and _well-fed_ , it had worked, he was _safe_. “Kay.”

 

Dean looked Sam in the eye, then backhanded him.

 

Sam fell and shoved himself up again, jolting away, caught between old fear and new panic. “Dean, what--”

 

“You helped stop the Apocalypse, Sammy.” Dean seemed so _calm_ , so _reasonable_ , Sam pushed himself up but Dean was already on his feet and Sam didn’t know where to run. “You need to be punished. Michael would’ve done it himself, but he can’t be here, so it’s gonna be me, okay? Hey. Hey, little brother, look at me. I’m not gonna hurt you, okay? I know Lucifer hurt you. I’m just gonna punish you.”

 

Sam didn’t even know how to reply. He pulled away by sheer instinct, because this wasn’t his brother, it couldn’t be--

 

“Kneel.” Dean ordered. “Kneel, Sam.”

 

Sam shook his head.

 

He should have known it was a mistake.

 

***

 

Dean beat the shit out of him.

 

Sam hadn’t believed it _was_ Dean, because Dean _would not hit him_ , Dean wouldn’t do this, stop lying Lucifer, I don’t believe you--no, no, please, I’m sorry Sire, please--

 

“He makes you call him that?” Dean demanded, with a fire in his eyes that made Sam cringe. “Don’t. Not in front of me.”

 

Sam nodded because he couldn’t say anything else. Because he couldn’t cry.

 

The beatings lasted until Sam agreed to kneel. Until he got shakily to his knees in front of Dean, didn’t look up, didn’t do anything except _know_ that this was not his brother on a fundamental level he couldn’t shake loose. It was _something_ and it _wanted_ him to think it was Dean.

 

_This wasn’t his brother._

 

He would kneel and do what it wanted because the pain was too much. But it wasn’t his brother.

 

He knew it wasn’t.

 

When not-Dean praised him, told him how good he was, Sam cried.

 

***

 

Damnit, when had Sammy gotten so stubborn?

 

Dean had to beat the snot out of the kid before he would even _kneel_. Sure, Michael’d done worse to him, but Dean was a cocky sonofabitch who never learned his place in life. Dean had no idea how Michael had the patience to discipline him, really.

 

Sam was a wreck, and they’d barely started.

 

Dean couldn’t heal Sam like Michael could heal him. Definitely a disadvantage. Alistair had taught him how to break people, but what could you do when they didn’t heal fast enough?

 

What would Michael do?

 

...rewards, Dean realized. Reward Sam for behaving. Sam was still technically Lucifer’s property, after all. Who knew what the sick bastard had put in Sam’s head? And Sam needed food, water, sleep, needed to heal.

 

This was not going to be easy, Dean realized with a lurch in his stomach. Really, really not--

 

Sam fainted.

 

 _Crap_ Dean had _broken_ him shit shit shit he shouldn’t have gone so hard _damnit this was not good_ \-- “Sir!” Dean shouted. Michael had promised to stay close. Promised that if something went wrong-- “Sir, please, I screwed up, help him!”

 

Michael appeared in a rustle of wings, and Dean went to his knees.

 

“Awww, he’s sleepy.” Lucifer mocked.

 

“You leave him like this regularly?” Michael asked Lucifer. Lucifer shrugged. “My soldier cannot heal him, Lucifer. If you want his training to continue, my soldier must have some way to discipline him.”

 

“ _Discipline_?” Lucifer scoffed. “You know on Earth they call you the angel of Justice. And somehow, you are not ashamed…”

 

“Enough of this.” Michael waved a hand. “Soldier. The boy is Lucifer’s vessel. What happens to him is not of my choosing.”

 

“Yes, sir.” Dean murmered, hanging his head, still holding his little brother.

 

“Maybe we’ve had enough for one day, hmm?” Lucifer asked. He walked over and Dean almost fought but his commander was watching. It would be okay. Michael would make it okay, he knew it. Lucifer took Sam’s body and walked away.

 

Michael sighed.

 

Dean looked at the ground, feeling like an idiot. “M’sorry, sir.”

 

“Don’t be.” Michael ordered. “We need another approach to bring Sam to our side.”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

***

 

“Was he real?”

 

Lucifer was back to being possessive, but he was bathing Sam, holding him in a relatively big tub, so maybe Sam could ask a question and not get hurt too badly.

 

“Who?” Lucifer had one arm around Sam’s shoulders, and the other reached to somewhere bad and Sam tried not to think about it because he had so little food in his system he couldn’t afford to throw up.

 

“Dean.” Sam only whispered the word. He’d begged for Dean. Once. And then learned the hard way that Lucifer could take any shape he wanted, and when Sam found Dean he didn’t want to flinch away the way he did from Lucifer. He felt like he was starving for healthy skin contact, for a hug, for _anything_. Even snuggling with Lucifer like this wasn’t freaking him out as much as it had at first.

 

Lucifer did something that hurt, _badly_. “Yes.” Lucifer bit out. “That was _Dean_. Your precious _brother_.” He let go and put a mocking smile on. “What a clever idea, Sammy, splitting you two up. You must hate Dean, putting him through that.” Lucifer was, as Sam had mentally started putting it, getting touchy again, and Sam shut his eyes and tried not to flinch. “You’re an ungrateful little ape, but even you must realize I’ll never lie to you.”

 

“Yes, Sire.” Expected. Expected response. Sam could survive this, if that was really his brother, even brainwashed--

 

Then Lucifer started the torture again and Sam felt any thought but pain and screams driven from his head.

 

***

 

Sam woke up with Dean next to him.

 

He blinked and tried to...no, he remembered now. Lucifer had been torturing him and then given him to Dean, and Dean had told him to sleep and caught Sam when he passed out.

 

Dean rolled what looked like soda over to him. Sam caught it carefully. The bottle wasn’t warm or melting. Was it acid?

 

“Michael said it would help with the starvation.” Dean explained. Sam didn’t move. “It’s okay. Sam…” Dean sighed.

 

Sam saw that his eye was black.

 

“I’m sorry I scared you.” Dean offered. Sam blinked and sat up. The Cage felt...soft, here, nestlike. “Drink it? Please? C’mon, Sammy, you look like skin and bones.”

 

...it would hurt.

 

...it was Dean.

 

Sam uncapped the bottle and took a sip. It was _sweet_. Sweet and perfect and--he started gulping it down greedily until Dean took the bottle out of his hands. “Give it a minute. You’ll get sick.”

 

“Dean.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Sam studied his brother’s face. He wasn’t sure he believed it.

 

After a few minutes, Dean gave the bottle back.

 

***

 

The angels only left for a few hours each day. They were a few hours of rest, peace; Dean fed Sam and comforted him while Sam sobbed and shook with terror, or held Sam when the skin-hunger was too strong to ignore.

 

Lucifer got wind of it.

 

He started to hold it over Sam’s head. He wouldn’t go with Michael if Sam wasn’t good for him, if Sam didn’t just scream and beg but try to please him, humiliate himself or hurt himself or do whatever Lucifer asked. Sam couldn’t let himself fight. He knew how weak he was--there was a voice inside of him now, now that he had food and water and sleep on a regular basis, that would not let him lose it.

 

Sam hated what Lucifer was turning him into. Hated how it had only taken a little food and compassion to drive him this low.

 

He couldn’t stop himself.

 

***

 

Dean almost thought he couldn’t handle it. That he was going to snap and start pushing Sam to accept his damn punishment already, because really, Sam was _ridiculous_. How long did it take to heal? Jeeze, it wasn’t like Michael had gone easy on him.

 

But then Sam had brought up how sick he felt when Lucifer...okay, Dean didn’t want to think about the implications of what the bastard was doing to Sammy.

 

“He’s warping you.” Dean warned Sam. Finally. _Finally_ Sam was getting it. “Sam...please. Michael can save us. He wants us pure, wants us to help Heaven, don’t you get it?” Dean knew he was grinning like an idiot. “He’s giving you a second chance.”

 

Sam hesitated but something in him was responding to good. Dean knew it. Knew Sam was good. “...How?”

 

“Accept you were wrong. That you need punishment.” Dean coaxed. “Trust me. I’m here for you, little brother. Okay?”

 

Sam nodded.

 

Dean started slow this time. Talking would work better with Sam than it had with Dean, Michael had warned him. Sam needed to _hear_ how he was wrong, to _understand_ it. Hitting him or using physical discipline would be punctuation for it. Sam was unlikely to respond to anything else again, after how long Lucifer had been ‘training’ him.

 

Dean hated hitting Sam. A lot. Even when Sam said things like that it was more important to be free than to have Heaven, or that Lucifer claimed Michael had brainwashed Dean. Dean’s blows were more like taps than anything, at least that day.

 

Dean was furious with himself.

 

***

 

“Well, well, well. Look who pissed off the angel’s bitch.”

 

Sam didn’t look at him. He couldn’t. Couldn’t bring himself to look at _anyone_ now, because he was filthy and tainted and he knew Dean would punish him for it, but every single thing Lucifer did just made it worse.

 

_I’m sorry, Dean. I’m so sorry…_

 

“Was your brother mean to you, little ape?” Lucifer crooned, playing with Sam’s hair. “Even here you can’t cooperate. What foolish little things you are.”

 

No, Sam wanted to say, Dean was good, Dean punished me, and I deserve it. I...I know I do…

 

“Let me help you remind you of what’s _actually_ important, you overgrown mutant.” Lucifer hissed, and then Sam felt the liquid heat that meant fire and Lucifer was laughing.

 

***

 

“Kneel, Sam.”

 

Sam hesitated, but slid to his knees. Dean almost glowed. It had been about a week; Sam was struggling, but he was trying, _trying_ so hard. “Good. Good job, Sammy.” He was so proud of him. “Okay. Tell me where you are. What’s going on.” Like fuck Dean was gonna reinforce Lucifer’s hold over his Sammy.

 

“I’m with you.” Sam said in a dull monotone, eyes downcast. “You’re Dean. The real Dean. You’re punishing me for defying Heaven. Michael asked you to.”

 

“That’s right.” Dean was _so proud_. “You’re doing great, Sam.” He probably shouldn’t praise Sam so much, but he couldn’t...Sam needed to hear it. Sam needed someone to love him. That was what a second chance was. “Sam, I should apologize. I’ve screwed up a bit with you.” Dean took a breath. Michael had already punished him for this, but he still felt a bit ashamed admitting how he’d hurt his baby brother. “Right now you can’t respond to anything but pain. And I’ve been too gentle. I’m making it harder for you.”

 

Sam said nothing.

 

“I’m sorry.” Dean whispered, reaching out to his brother’s shoulder. “I’m going to make this right. I promise.”

 

Lucifer had left some...tools...in this room, for Dean to punish Sam with. And had encouraged Dean to torture Sam. Lucifer didn’t understand that Sam wanted punishment, but Dean wasn’t going to be the one to correct that idea.

 

He picked up the whip. It was harder to be gentle with it. Sam would feel pain and know right from wrong again.

 

The first blow made Sam arch his back.

 

“Stop moving.” Dean ordered. The second time Sam almost managed it. “Sam. Stop moving.” The third time he did it. “Good. Good job.” He walked over to Sam. Rewards were good too, always. “I’m gonna give you a minute, okay, Sammy? Because you were so good.”

 

Sam nodded, taking deep, slow breaths. He was nearly crying, Dean realized.

 

“Come on, man. Don’t cry.” Dean joked. “C’mon, you can take it.” Sam nodded and inhaled, and Dean stood. “Okay. Ready?”

 

Sam didn’t move.

 

“Hey, Sam, you awake?”

 

“Yes.” Sam’s voice was still flat.

 

“You ready?”

 

“Yes.”

 

***

_It wasn’t some nightmare of terror or something, his brother turning. Just...waiting. Waiting to end up in the hospital or broken, and then Sam would leave._

_It wasn’t that bad. Wasn’t abuse. Sam knew what the lady who had pulled him aside during a case had said; she was wrong, of course she was. Sam was a Hunter. He could take more than this._

_A few hits, watching his words for a while...it wasn’t a big deal. He could endure. And then Dean would blow up and it would be over._

_Sam knew that._

_This time might be it, and it terrified Sam--Dean walked in and threw his phone into the wall, and he hadn’t stopped storming around since. He wanted Sam to ask what was wrong, he knew._

_Finally Sam just asked. It was a bit of control. “Dean? What’s wrong?”_

_“What’s_ wrong _?” Dean snarled. “Let’s make a fucking list. Sammy’s Greatest Hits, how about it? Ruby? Demon blood? I swear it’s like every time I turn around you’re screwing things the fuck up!” Dean slammed his hand down, almost howling by the last word._

_Sam blinked and tried to figure out just what the hell had brought this on. Did it matter? “...I’m sorry.”_

_“Sorry. You’re_ sorry _.” Dean shook his head, almost laughing, then screamed, “I don’t want sorry!” He punctuated it with a slam of his hand again._

_Sam studied Dean, nodding slowly._

_Dean looked at him, then gave a huff of exasperation, walked over, and punched Sam in the face._

_Sam rolled away and tried to get up, but Dean was hitting him, just raining blows and kicks, and shouting about how he screwed everything up and how Dean should’ve left him and--_

_...and it was_ glowing. _Glowing everywhere._

_Dean’s blows stopped and Sam wondered, for a brief second, if it was over. There was something good and warm around him, someone powerful who had saved him, and he felt animalistically grateful…_

Shhh, Sam. I’m here.

 

_He let the...person?...take him away. Somewhere else…_

 

...the Cage? Was it the Cage? Sam couldn’t remember. Was he a Hunter? Had Lucifer ever existed? Or was he the Boy With the Demon Blood…

 

“You should show me your gratitude.” Lucifer told him.

 

Sam knew what he wanted and gave it to him, still dazed and confused, wondering how an angel could feel physical pleasure in some part of his mind, but then deciding it, like everything else, wasn’t worth it. He wouldn’t hurt if Lucifer was happy.

 

He was right; Lucifer didn’t hurt him until he was finished. Then he gripped Sam’s hair and the world faded again…

 

_...this time it was Michael, it was the archangel, using a body Sam didn’t recognize, telling Sam that he had to die as punishment for his sins._

_He offered Sam the knife._

_Sam couldn’t take it. He was afraid. He couldn’t be good. Lucifer was whispering in his ears--no, no, he couldn’t say yes, not this time, please no._

_“It’s God’s Will, Sam.” Michael stepped forward, offering the handle. “Sam. You’ve prayed so often. We heard. All of Heaven heard.”_

_It was everything he’d wanted to hear and nothing he wanted to know. He’d prayed for forgiveness--_

_“This is forgiveness, Sam.” Michael reached out to touch Sam’s arm. “We could cast you into Hell. We could torture you in this life to purify you. But ours is a merciful God. Our Father sees you, Sam. He knows your pain.” Michael held out the blade again._

 

Mercy? Is this what you want, Sam? _Lucifer asked._ Come with me. Let me protect you from them.

 

_No, no more, please no--_

_It was enough; Sam took the knife and plunged it into his own neck. Easier than getting through his ribcage, more fatal if he slipped or missed. He didn’t, and the world went so, so blissfully quiet…_

_...and then he woke, healed._

_“Very good, Sam.” Michael praised before kicking him in the face._

_Sam screamed and begged and it meant nothing, nothing to these angels, who were holding Sam down for Michael to beat, and then Michael sent fire over Sam’s skin and he screamed out a name--_

_“Sire! Sire, please, please, yes, don’t leave me!”_

_Lucifer slipped into his skin like he had always belonged there…_

 

...the Cage returned and Lucifer was whispering that Sam was a good boy before striking him. Sam curled up, shaking, crying.

 

“Don’t _ever_ listen to them again.” Lucifer hissed.

 

***

 

They’d lost Sam.

 

Dean had tried _everything_ but Sam flat-out disobeyed. He wasn’t interested in redemption or punishment. He’d forgotten everything Dean had tried to get through his thick skull.

 

Dean had been nearly shaking with rage when he told Michael. Michael had simply nodded and left.

 

Dean trained. It was furious and angry and he couldn’t help it, he _just wanted Sam back_. Why the fuck was this happening? Was he being impatient? Prideful? Damnit…

 

“Soldier.”

 

Dean slid to his knees. Michael was here. Michael could make it right.

 

“Sam has fallen.”

 

“What? Sir?” Dean asked.

 

Micheal struck him before continuing. “Sam has chosen Satan. We cannot save him. He has rejected God.”

 

It was like part of Dean died then and there.

 

***

 

Sam was a good boy. He’d been good. He hadn’t betrayed Lucifer again. He’d told Dean no ( _which Dean? which Michael? Sam didn’t know anything anymore_ ) and endured the pain, endured the beatings, because Lucifer wasn’t there to defend him, and when Lucifer came back, he was so proud of Sam, so proud, kissed the wounds Dean had left and the bruises like Lucifer had marked him himself.

 

Lucifer gave him food and water now. Dean didn’t give Sam anything. Lucifer let Sam sleep and only played enough to hear Sam beg or scream. Sam tried to be a good boy and beg for Lucifer when he wanted, scream when Lucifer wanted.

 

Sam had no one else.

 

Lucifer brought him to Dean and Sam shuddered and tried not to cling to his Sire. He failed. Lucifer struck him down. Sam deserved it. Sam got to his knees and whispered, “I’m sorry, Sire.”

 

“Of course you are.” Lucifer sighed and shook his head, glancing at Michael. “You know, I’d like to see what your vessel does while we’re gone.”

 

Michael was expressionless as always. “He is not ordered to do anything any longer. Your vessel chose you.”

 

Oh. _Oh_. That was why...Sam looked up at his brother, because it was Dean, Dean would...Dean would know, wouldn’t he? That Sam would always, _always_ , choose Dean?

 

Dean was expressionless too. But instead of blankness, his face spoke of stony rage.

 

_No. Please. Dean…_

 

“Well, I’m sure you won’t mind searching alone, then.” Lucifer said with a grin.

 

Michael, for the first time, looked uncomfortable, then glanced at Dean. Sam didn’t know what they said. He didn’t look at Michael. He just knew that, somehow, Michael and Dean reached a silent agreement.

 

Michael left.

 

“Now, where should I start?” Lucifer asked, studying the brothers hungrily. “Let me see…”

 

Sam tottered to his feet.

 

Both Dean and Lucifer stared. Just...stared. Then Lucifer started to laugh, a low, horrifying sound. “Oh. Oh, sweet little ape. Are you _defending him_?” Lucifer’s voice went from sweet to cold fury in less than a second. “He _brainwashed_ you, you thoughtless pile of _mud_! He beat you, tortured you, made you _beg_ \--and _you choose him_? Over your _King_?”

 

Sam took a half-step, planting himself between Lucifer and Dean.

 

Lucifer stared openly.

 

“And you, boy.” Lucifer finally asked, gesturing at Dean. “Aren’t you going to defend him? Beg me to spare him?”

 

“Sam is dead to me.” Dean said blankly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

 

Sam’s eyes were tearing up, but he stood firm.

 

Dean was thrown into the wall.

 

Sam wanted to scream, but he had no words. “Beg.” Lucifer snapped. “Beg me to take you, _ape_ , or I swear I will cut open this thing you call a _brother_ right in front of you.”

 

At least Sam could do this. “Please. Sire. Please take me. Not Dean.” Sam used Dean’s name because it was Dean, it was his brother. He walked up to Lucifer, fell to his knees, he knew Lucifer liked that. “Sire, please, I’m yours, take me, please, hurt me instead of him. Please. I’m here to serve you. Take me, please. Not him. Please. I’ll give you anything you want, Sire, I promise.”

 

Dean screamed as Lucifer tightened his psychic grip. “Give me _one_ good reason why I should.” Lucifer hissed, and this was new, this was _anger_ , like nothing Sam had ever seen.

 

“I know what pleases you, Sire.” Sam tried. “Sire. Please.” He looked up, tried to let the pain show on his face. “Michael’s had Dean for years now, Dean’s useless to you. I feel pain, I feel grief, you can have any part of me, please--”

 

“And here I thought I owned you.”

 

“Yes.” Sam begged. “ _Yes_ , Sire, you own me, please, won’t it be more fun to play with what’s already yours?”

 

Lucifer smiled suddenly. Sam held back a shudder.

 

“I think,” Lucifer said slowly, “We should see what that homophobic brother of yours thinks of the fact that you like men as much as women.” It had started. Sam didn’t believe in God enough to thank him but he felt relief flood him anyway. “All my demons say the easiest way to tempt you is with a man, isn’t that right? Think I’m pretty enough, Sammy, or do you want to try this?” He changed shape, something colder, sharper--

 

Everything went dark.

 

***

 

Sam wasn’t entirely sure what happened next. He knew he woke up, on Earth, in his own body, with an old man looking down at him.

 

He knew the old man told him that he was getting rather sick of Hell being used beyond its purpose.

 

But then the old man was gone, and Cas was there, and swearing Sam would be all right.

 

Sam didn’t know if he would be. He closed his eyes instead.

 

After all, it was just another illusion.

 

end

 

 


End file.
